


You Taste Better (with me in your mouth)

by Magnolia822



Series: The Newest Member [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Knotting, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unsafe Sex, werewolves have feelings too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek doesn't think Jackson can control himself during the supermoon, so he takes deep into the woods for . . . safety reasons. And things. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/487367">The Newest Member</a> is the first part of this series, so you may want to read that first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Taste Better (with me in your mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [mab_di](http://mab-di.livejournal.com/) and [otta_ff](http://otta-ff.livejournal.com/) for the pre-read/beta! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The first words out of Jackson’s mouth are “What the hell are you doing here?” when he whirls around at school to find Derek standing behind him at his locker, so close he can feel the body heat of his alpha warming the space between them. Derek glowers at him, his brows furrowing. 

“I came to talk.” Derek says the words like they’re painful. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve got practice.” Ever since he knotted Isaac at the Hale house while Derek watched, Derek’s been ignoring him, merely tolerating his presence when they’re all together. Not like he expected anything else, but still, it’s a little too much like being rejected. No one ignores Jackson Whitmore. No one. And now the dude just shows up at school and wants to talk? Please. Jackson hoists his bag over his shoulder and kicks his locker shut, ready to stalk away, when he feels a hand gripping his shoulder, the nails digging in, a familiar warning.

“Not so fast, _pup_.” Derek leans forward to emphasize the word. “You and me, we have business.”

Rather than risk drawing more attention to them than necessary—kids are already staring, and not in a good, ‘wow, Jackson you’re so hot and perfect’ way—Jackson follows Derek to his Camaro. There’s a freshman nobody staring at the car, reaching out to touch the shiny black finish when they appear, and Derek growls a threat. The kid jumps back like he’s been smacked, and it makes Jackson laugh in spite of himself as he climbs into the passenger’s seat. 

“You could try to behave normally in public, you know.” 

Derek revs the engine and gives Jackson a rare, toothy smile. “I could. But what would be the fun of that?” They peel out of the parking lot, going somewhere. 

In the close quarters of the car, Derek smells good, like the woods. He’s wearing a black leather jacket that’s almost too tight for his arms. Jackson gets that funny feeling again, like he wants to roll over and whine—like a fucking dog. 

“I thought you wanted to talk?” Jackson says, hating that the question comes out too softly. 

“I lied. We’re going to the shack.” 

“Oh, no. I told you no!” He should know better than to get ever get into a car with Derek Hale. During the last pack meeting, Derek had insisted that Jackson go with him up to some ramshackle cabin in the woods during the next full moon, since this one was supposed to be the most powerful of the year and he didn’t think Jackson would be able to control himself. Yeah, so the last one had been a disaster. Jackson had tried to ground himself, to think good thoughts and control his transformation, but he’d been unable to get back to that place he’d found with Lydia. The entire pack had to hold him down, tie him up. From what he could remember it hadn’t been pleasant. But he’d been working on it, hadn’t he? He’d been working so fucking hard and Derek still didn’t trust him. 

“You’re not ready.” Derek’s voice is full of authority, not joking now. “We can’t have a repeat performance of last month, not with the alphas waiting to strike when we’re vulnerable, and that’s just what we’ll be if you’re spazzing out and trying to murder us all.” 

“I won’t,” Jackson says through gritted teeth. 

“Sorry. Can’t take the chance. The supermoon is different, hard even for veteran wolves. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it?” 

Staring straight ahead at the road, he notices their surroundings getting denser with trees and shudders. He’s been uncomfortable in his skin all week, prickly, his blood too hot. Even now his senses are on high alert, small annoyances making him snappish. “I haven’t,” he lies.

“Bullshit.” 

Jackson bristles at the dismissive tone, taking it as a challenge. Oh, he’ll show Derek he can control himself. He’ll show him there was no need to drag him out here into the middle of the wilderness. 

The rest of the drive is filled with uncomfortable silence. By the time they finally reach the turn off, they haven’t seen another car for over an hour. Derek parks near the main road and beckons Jackson to follow him up a winding path. Dusk is quickly settling, and the hike is long through steep, rocky terrain. By the time they reach the cabin, Jackson’s whole body aches, but not from exertion. The wolf inside him is starting to clamor for release, his fangs beginning to swell in his jaw, his stomach knotting in hunger. 

If Derek notices, he doesn’t mention it, and for that Jackson is grateful. For the first time since they left the school, this is beginning to feel like a good idea. Not that he’d ever admit it.

The forest is different here, older. Jackson can hear animals rustling, scurrying away from the approach of predators. There are deer out here, and bears. Jackson wonders what it would be like to kill an animal, sink his teeth into warm flesh. He’s done it before, he knows, but he doesn’t remember—doesn’t want to remember those dark months. But always at the back of his mind is that awareness. He’s killed. 

Whatever the issues he’s having now, nothing compares to the complete despair he’d felt waking up with blood on his hands, not knowing what he’d done the night before. He’d been so fucking weak, let Matt and Gerard control him— _wanted_ to be controlled. And that was the most terrifying aspect of it—he still—God, he wants . . . 

“What?” Derek says, breaking the silence. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re thinking too hard, pup. I can smell it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off.” 

When the cabin finally comes into view, it’s as tiny as Jackson expected. It does have an intact roof, however, and it’s not burnt to a crisp, so it gets a couple of begrudging points for not being as awful as the Hale house. There is, however, only one bed—a small one pressed up against one wall. 

He stares at it, feeling Derek’s eyes bore into the back of his skull. “I see you’ve splurged on the deluxe accommodations.” 

“Relax,” Derek says, tossing his bag to the side, “there’s not going to be any sleeping tonight.” 

Jackson can’t tell if that’s promise or a threat. 

His skin feels itchy-hot, but the night air is cool and the cabin is damp. Derek sets about making a fire while Jackson perches on the side of the tiny bed and watches. There is something alarmingly attractive about the way Derek moves, how graceful he is despite his bulk. Jackson can’t help his mind drifting back to that night with Isaac, how Derek had finally broken down and touched them. He can still hear the whispered sound of his name on Derek’s lips. He hates that he loved the attention, was disappointed when it didn’t continue. 

Finally, dusting his hands off on his jeans, Derek stands and faces him. 

“How do you feel?” It’s all business. He wants to know how close Jackson is to wolfing out. But that’s the least of Jackson’s problems at the moment—his cock is already half-hard with memories, and it won’t be long before Derek smells it. 

In that instant, Derek’s expression changes. He tilts his head and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they’re glittering. “Ohhh.”

It’s too humiliating, and so Jackson just turns away and looks at the fire, his cock heavy now against his thigh. Breathing is difficult, especially when he can feel Derek’s assessing gaze. The last of the daylight has disappeared, and underneath his arousal the wolf stirs again, this time more insistently. His skin feels like it might slough away. 

“It’s safe out here . . . if you wolf out,” Derek says, surprising him. “The only things you can kill are animals.”

“Or you.” 

“You’d have to catch me first, _pup_.” Derek laughs. 

Jackson’s heart is hammering and the tips of his fingers throb. “You think that’s funny?”

“Yeah, I think it’s funny. But you can’t kill me, so don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t worried.” 

“Weren’t you?” Derek arches his eyebrow like he can see right into Jackson’s soul, all of the blackness there. 

“You don’t know shit about me, Hale, so can the psychological crap.” 

“I think I do. So what’s it gonna be? Are we gonna try to fight this or are you gonna let go?” 

There’s more to the question than just this moment. This is about his place in the pack, whether he can be trusted to control himself when he’s needed. It’s a test. But there’s something else to it too—an offer. _We._ It does something to his defenses, making him unsure how to respond. He can never tell when Derek is being sincere. 

“Why do you want to help me? Why not just send me away?” 

The fire casts a lurid glow over the cabin, lengthening Derek’s shadow against the wall. It’s impossible to read the expression on his face. “Because I know what it is to have death on your hands. And I think I know what you need.” 

“What?” Jackson can barely say the word, because he’s suddenly aware of a shift in the air, a smell that makes his cock leap. Derek’s eyes glow red as the fire. 

“ _Run_.” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice. In an instant, Jackson is up and out the door, his feet pounding on the soft earth. All around him, the sounds of night are welcoming, guiding him as his strides lengthen, wolf senses telling him when to jump, when to dodge out of the way. He drinks in the cool air, lungs filling with fresh oxygen and the taste of a thousand living things. Things to kill. But he won’t, no, even as his scalp prickles, fangs extending. He fights the full change knowing Derek is at his heels. 

Jackson is fast but he knows that Derek is faster, that the older wolf is biding his time, waiting for the moment to strike, and when he does there will be nothing he can do to fight him off. Doesn’t want to. This is the most thrilling game of his life, but he won’t let himself be conquered so easily.

The chase takes them further up the mountain, the trees and brush growing thinner. That’s when Jackson feels the first touch of moonlight on his skin, the power of it stealing his breath. How can he resist it when his entire body calls to give in? It hurts to fight it, like a knife twisting in his side, running up the length of him. He staggers under the force of it, blood roaring in his ears as he tries to recall the thing that brought him back from the edge before, the thing that’s gone now. 

Derek is at his back, then, and the two of them fall to the ground in a tussle. Jackson arches, head knocking against the earth as his alpha pins his arms and bites his neck in warning. 

He gasps, chest pumping when he feels Derek’s length pressed hot and hard against his thigh. Derek wedges one of his legs in-between Jackson’s and lets his teeth sink deeper into flesh. 

Instead of inflaming the wolf inside him, the authority in the action holds it at bay, anchoring Jackson to his human body. He is awash with pain and pleasure; the growl that builds in his chest comes out as a whimper. Derek pulls back and licks the wound, which has already begun to heal. 

“Better?” he asks, almost concerned. 

“Fuck,” Jackson gasps. 

“That can be arranged.” 

“What?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’s what you _need_.”

Unceremoniously, Jackson is flipped onto his stomach, his jeans yanked down. He struggles a little, more because it’s expected than anything else. All of his blood has rushed to his cock at the thought of taking Derek’s knot, being pumped full of his come.

A finger presses to his entrance, and he feels himself relax completely, trying to draw it inside. 

“Greedy little hole. You want me to finger you?” Even as the question is asked, the digit is withdrawn. 

It occurs to Jackson that he wants to lie. Maybe that Derek expects it. “No.” 

“You want me to eat you out?” 

“Fuck. No.” His ass wriggles; anything to get that finger back.

“You want my knot inside you?” 

At that, Jackson can only whine, arching his back. He’ll die if he doesn’t get it soon, god, Derek’s tongue, his hand, anything. 

He feels his cheeks being pried apart and then a hot lick down the center of his crack, Derek’s tongue lapping at his hole. It’s warm and wet, and Derek buries his face there, forcing Jackson down into the dirt as he’s licked and sucked, the tender skin behind his balls lashed. No one has ever touched him like this, and it’s strange it should be Derek out here in the middle of the fucking woods. The intimacy of it is embarrassing, and Jackson would protest if he hadn’t lost the ability to speak. 

Things around them have gone still, even the breeze has stopped, and the only sounds are the obscene slick noises of Derek opening him up. But it’s not enough, the tip of Derek’s tongue teasing him with tiny breaches. He struggles, humping back to get more inside, his cock leaking a thin stream of come down to the earth, tying him to it.

It occurs to him that Derek is too eager to not have wanted this, the way he’s kissing and eating at Jackson’s hole, that maybe all of these weeks of being ignored have meant something other than indifference. But as soon as the thought strikes him, it’s gone again, lost in the burn of fingers being pressed inside. 

When he feels the hot head of Derek’s cock against his hole, Jackson falls forward onto his forearms. 

“Gonna stick you with my cock,” Derek says hoarsely, and then it’s pressing in-in-in, a thick, rigid slide that knocks the breath out of him, his body trembling to take it. He can’t help the sounds that he makes, no longer cares if he sounds desperate. Behind him, Derek growls, and Jackson turns to see his alpha’s gaze focused on the place they’re joining, watching with parted lips. 

The cock is big, the girth nearly overwhelming, but Derek doesn’t stop until he’s seated, the knot already beginning to swell at the base. Jackson feels it press on his rim, but he wants to be fucked, and so he pushes back, groaning with the effort of letting Derek in. 

“You want me to fuck you?” 

This time, he can’t even think to lie. “Yes. Please.” 

And then Derek is fucking the lights out of him, hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Jackson takes it, reveling in each brutal thrust, the length of Derek’s cock filling him, rubbing against a spot inside that makes his eyes cross. His cock is pulsing, streaming and wet, and it doesn’t take long before his orgasm crests, Derek’s hand pumping under him, helping him along. His come soaks the ground beneath them, each spurt almost painful. Derek’s teeth are at his neck again. 

“I’ve got such a huge load for you. Are you ready for it?” 

“Oh god,” Jackson says, his own cock still half-hard, even after his climax. Derek slows his movements and pushes their bodies closer together, bringing them down to the ground on their sides. He still has a casual hold of Jackson’s dick, rubbing his thumb over the too-sensitive head. 

“Remember seeing you fuck the shit out of Isaac. Wanted to get right up in you while you fucked him. Get my cock inside and knot you, too.” 

The image of that makes Jackson delirious, and he wants it, wants to fuck someone and be fucked at the same time. He feels the press of Derek’s knot and welcomes it, wriggles back to let it in. Derek groans, a long, gusty sigh that tickles the hair at the back of Jackson’s neck. And then it’s done, the knot expanding, tying them together while Derek’s hips continue to roll. Jackson is aware that Derek is coming, almost inaudible sounds of pleasure giving him away. His cock hardens up again at the knowledge and the continued attention of Derek’s hand.

“Haven’t . . . haven’t done this in a while. Fuck,” Derek says, his voice softer now. “Could be a bit.” Jackson can feel the cock flexing in his clutch, the slow, hot bursts of semen filling him up. Derek sighs against his neck, nibbles there. He drags his thumb over the slit of Jackson’s cock, rubbing circles over the head. “You feel that?” Derek asks, pressing against Jackson’s abdomen with his other hand. “Feel me.” 

Jackson can’t even think, his mind blank with pleasure. Each press of Derek’s thumb over his cock is exquisite torture. His balls tighten up again, readying.

“You think you’re the only one who wants to be controlled, Jackson? Who likes being someone’s bitch?” The statement barely registers, but Jackson knows he’ll think about it later, after he’s come again. “You’ve just got to learn who to trust.” Derek is snuffling into his neck, hand working at Jackson’s cock, faster. “Got another load to put inside you. You want it?” 

He doesn’t know why, but he turns his head to seek a kiss, craving it so bad, even worse than the sex. Derek’s tongue slides into his mouth, hot and slick, and Jackson groans at the earthy taste, remembering how Derek was eating him and this is so dirty, so wrong. It turns him on, though, because of that—because of the way he’s just putty in his alpha’s hands, to bend or break at his will. Only he doesn’t think Derek will break him. 

It’s almost painful when he comes again in Derek’s hand, their mouths working at each other with kisses that are more like bites, Derek’s cock still pulsing inside. 

The moon is full and high over their heads.


End file.
